Between Anil and the skeleton, discreetly out of sight, was her tape recorder, imprinting every word and opinion and question from officials, which she, till now, responded to courteously and unforgivingly. But he could see what Anil couldn’t-the half-glances around the hot room (they must have turned off the air-conditioning thirty minutes into the evidence, an old device to distract thought); there were conversations beginning around him. He shrugged himself off the wall and moved forward.
‘Excuse me, please.’
Everyone turned to him. She looked up, her face amazed at his presence and this interruption.
‘This skeleton was also located at the Bandarawela site?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘And how much earth was found over it?’
‘Three feet approximately.’
‘Can you be more precise?’
‘We cannot. I really don’t see its relevance.’
‘Because sections of the hill outside the cave, where this one was found, had been worn down by cattle, trade, rains… isn’t that correct? Can someone turn on the damn air-conditioning in here, it’s difficult for us all to think clearly in this heat. Isn’t it true that in the old nineteenth-century burial grounds, murder sites as well as graves were often-in fact in nearly every case-found with less than two feet of earth over them?’
She was becoming agitated and decided to be silent. Sarath could sense them focusing on him, turning in their seats.
He walked down to the front of the auditorium and they let him approach her. He faced Anil now across the table, leaned forward and with a set of tongs pulled out the piece of stone imprisoned within the rib cage.
‘This stone was found in the ribs of the skeleton.’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell us what happens in ancient customs… Think carefully, Miss Tissera, don’t just theorize.’
There was a pause.
‘Please don’t speak like that. Patronizing me.’
‘Tell us what happens.’
‘They bury bodies and they place a stone on the earth above it, usually. It acts like a marker and then it drops when the flesh gives way.’
‘Gives way? How?’
‘One minute!’
‘How many years does that take?’
Silence.
‘Yes?’
Silence.
He spoke very slowly now.
‘A minimum of nine years usually, isn’t it? Before the stone falls through, into the rib cage. Right?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Right?’
‘Yes. Except for fire corpses. Burned ones.’
‘But we’re not even sure of this, because most of them were burned in the last century, these ones in the historical gravesites. As you know, there was a plague there in 1856. Another in 1890. Many were burned. The skeleton you have here is likely to be a hundred years old-in spite of your fine social work about its career and habits and diet…’
‘The skeleton I could have proved something with has been confiscated.’
‘We seem to have too many bodies around. Is this one less important than the confiscated one?’
‘Of course not. But the confiscated one died less than five years ago.’
‘Confiscated. Confiscated… Who confiscated it?’ Sarath said.
‘It was taken while I met with Dr. Perera in Kynsey Road Hospital. It was lost there.’
‘So you lost it, then. It was not confiscated.’
‘I did not lose it. It was taken from the lab when I was speaking with him in the cafeteria.’
‘So you misplaced it. Do you think it’s possible Dr. Perera had something to do with that?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. I have not seen him since.’
‘And you wished to prove that skeleton was a recent death. Even if we now do not have the evidence.’
‘Mr. Diyasena, I’d like to remind you that I came here as part of a human rights group. As a forensic specialist. I do not work for you, I’m not hired by you. I work for an international authority.’
He turned and directed his words to the audience.
‘This “international authority” has been invited here by the government, has it not? Is that not right?’
‘We are an independent organization. We make independent reports.’
‘To us. To the government here. That means you do work for the government here.’
‘What I wish to report is that some government forces have possibly murdered innocent people. This is what you are hearing from me. You as an archaeologist should believe in the truth of history.’
‘I believe in a society that has peace, Miss Tissera. What you are proposing could result in chaos. Why do you not investi-gate the killing of government officers? Can we get the air-conditioning on, please?’
There was a scattering of applause.
‘The skeleton I had was evidence of a certain kind of crime. That is what is important here. “One village can speak for many villages. One victim can speak for many victims.” Remember? I thought you represented more than you do.’
‘Miss Tissera-’
‘Doctor.’
‘All right, “Doctor.” I have brought here another skeleton from another burial site, an earlier century. To establish the difference, I would like you to do a forensic study of it for me.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘This is not ridiculous. I would like to have evidence of the difference between two corpses. Somasena!’
He gestured to someone in the back of the hall. The skeleton, wrapped in plastic, was wheeled in.
‘A two-hundred-year-old corpse,’ he said out loud. ‘That’s what we assume, anyway, the boys in archaeology. Perhaps you can manage to prove us wrong.’
He was tapping his pencil against her table, like a taunt.
‘I need time.’
‘We give you forty-eight hours. Leave the skeleton you were talking about and go with Mr. Somasena to the lobby, he will escort you. You will have to sign back all your research before you leave. I must warn you of that. This skeleton will be waiting for you in the front entrance in twenty minutes.’
She turned from him and collected her papers.
‘Leave the papers and the tape recorder, please.’
She was still for a moment, then removed the tape recorder from the pocket where she had just put it, and left it on the table.
‘It belongs to me,’ she whispered. ‘Remember?’
‘We’ll get it back to you.’
She started walking up the steps to the exit. The officials hardly looked at her.
‘Dr. Tissera!’
She turned at the top of the stairs and faced him, certain it would be for the last time.
‘Don’t attempt to return for these things. Just leave the building. We’ll call you if we want you.’
She stepped through the door. It closed behind her with a pneumatic click.
Sarath remained there and spoke quietly, out into their midst.
With Gunesena he wheeled the two skeletons on the trolley through the side door. It opened onto a dark passageway that would take them towards the parking lot. They stood still a moment. Gunesena said nothing. Whatever happened, Sarath did not want to return to the auditorium. He felt for a switch. There was the crackle of neon trying to catch, that stuttering of light he was used to in buildings like this.
A row of red arrows lit the passageway, which inclined upwards. They pushed the trolley with the two skeletons in the semi-darkness, arms turning crimson every time they passed an arrow. He imagined Anil two floors above him, walking angrily, slamming each door she walked through. Sarath knew they would halt her at each corridor level, check her papers again and again to irritate and humiliate her. He knew she would be searched, vials and slides removed from her briefcase or pockets, made to undress and dress again. It would take her more than forty minutes to pass the gauntlets and escape the building and she would, he knew, be carrying nothing by the end of the journey, no scraps of information, not a single personal photograph she might foolishly have carried with her into the Armoury building that morning. But she would get out, which was all he wished for.